THE NIGHT OF THE GODDESS.
A beautiful old two-story farmhouse lies surrounded by open fields and scattered cops of hardwood trees that had witnessed the coming of the Normans. The whitewashed walls reflect the moon's light with an ethereal glow. The large attic space has been converted into two studio apartments, a window opening out of each onto a tiny balcony, barely large enough for the single occupant of each to stand and survey their pastoral surroundings.
Within one of these apartments, I sit naked in the dark and feel the full moon's power encompass me. I feel the Goddess' gentle, loving caress lightly flit across my skin. Both the tiny hairs that cover my body and my manhood respond immediately. I smile as blood flows with almost painful intensity to my expanding erection until a deep, pulsating ache tells me that I can accept no more.
She is near. I can feel her breath, her presence, yet I refuse to open my eyes just yet, letting her subtle light tease my vision through the lids.
She is worth the wait. Always has been, through the countless years that we have known each other.
At last, I allow myself a long, deep calming breath that only serves to sharpen the dull ache that permeates my loins and I open my eyes for the first time since she had appeared that night, giving myself permission to look upon her fullness.
I watch her through the open window leading to the small balcony, shivering as she caresses me once more with the breeze.
She is stunningly beautiful, as always. Yet no mere word could possibly begin to convey her majesty, her shining aura as she plays her shadows across my glistening skin.
Truly she is a goddess in every possible facet of the word.
She beckons me and, like the obedient servant I am, I rise from the soft embrace of the sofa and walk out onto the balcony, my nakedness and hardness unashamedly bare before her gaze.
Again, she caresses me with a light breeze and I become one with my surroundings, bathed in her ethereal light. Lifting my arms up away from my side, I close my eyes once more, tilt back my head and give myself up to her cool exploration.
My excitement grows as I feel her light fingers play, mischievously with the downy hairs upon my chest, feel her laughingly stroke the roundness of my buttocks and gently tease her way from the full warmth of my sack along the hardness of my shaft to the exquisite agony of the merest touch upon the head of my quivering, engorged manhood.
For a moment, I think I may loose control and release the flow of my love to her, yet I know it is not time, merely the urging of the impetuous youth that resides within all men. She deserves so much more as do all women who walk on her path. And so, with a monumental effort, I manage to stay the tide of my feelings although my maleness aches for her, battling a deep seated need to spend my precious seed, in deferent offering, upon her alter.
